


from way across the sea

by chiuling



Category: Aquaman (2018), DC Extended Universe, Wonder Woman (Movies - Jenkins)
Genre: Ancient Greek, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/M, Injury Recovery, Justice League sort of happened but I've never actually seen it lmao, Slow Burn, Wartime Romance, all my DC knowledge is from Young Justice, look y'all I didn't ask for this rarepair but it makes sense to me, shrug emoji
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24513151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiuling/pseuds/chiuling
Summary: Two years after the events of Aquaman, Darkseid invaded Earth and Orm went deep undercover as a traitor to Atlantis, sending valuable information to the League. The problem is, Arthur can’t be sure where Orm's loyalties lie. They parted on good terms — but Darkseid promised Orm the throne of Atlantis, and, well, there's his history to consider.Meanwhile, Diana Prince leads the League in defending Earth, but an injured Arthur Curry makes a request: abduct Orm and assess the situation, while not blowing his cover. Diana agrees. Unsurprisingly, they do not get along.Diana knows there's more to the situation — and this man — that meets the eye. If she can get to the bottom of it, she might stop Darkseid's machinations in their tracks. But she hasn't opened her heart to anyone since 1918 and Orm is not a stable person. Suffice it to say, there are many ways this could go wrong.
Relationships: Diana (Wonder Woman)/Orm Marius
Comments: 12
Kudos: 17





	1. Absolution

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all and welcome to my rarepair, population me. A long time ago I had the thought that Diana and Orm are both lonely warriors whose first language is a version of Ancient Greek. Naturally (?), I decided to ship them (rip.) Fortunately or unfortunately, this is the product of that ship. 
> 
> I am legally required to title all Aquaman fic with a title from a Florence + the Machine song. (This is a joke. Do not sue me.)
> 
> It will likely be novel-length, I will likely write and finish it over the summer, and it will likely feature an insane amount of made-up DC knowledge because I simply do not vibe with reading comics. Thank you and that is all. Find me on tumblr if you wish: dantealighierl

When Orm received the order to sack Poseidonis, he reacted with little surprise, just a curt nod, and shut off the transmission. He hadn’t been in the sea in three weeks; a part of him relished his imminent return to water. For such a purpose, though, his stomach churned. But this was not the time for weakness. If he stumbled now, far worse things than the razing of of one outpost town lay on the horizon.

He stared out the window of the Apokoliptian warship, helmet in his hands. Earth hung there, in all its blue-green beauty. Only two years ago he had ruled Atlantis as king. Then, unexpected and (at the time) wholly unwanted, Arthur had returned with Atlan’s trident, took the throne, and imprisoned his brother in the underground prison known, with some bleak humor, as the Aquarium.

Those long months in lockup — he had turned it all over in his mind again and again, his father, his mother, his brother, his throne. Arthur and Atlanna visited when they could, but they were his only visitors, and the world outside turned inexorably on without him. He felt relieved to have no further responsibilities and deeply worthless to himself all at once. And Atlantis — well. Atlantis had moved on quickly enough. Evidently Arthur had displayed enough strength and martial prowess for the whole nation to regard him as the second coming of Atlan, something that stirred no small amount of bitterness in Orm’s heart. And he could do nothing but stew in it, moving around his cell in disciplined circles, refusing haircuts and entertainment, sleeping for precisely six hours every night and no more.

Then, eight months ago, the coming of Apokolips — one of fire and terror — changed everything. Steppenwolf had only been the beginning; Darkseid wanted the earth and all its riches. He wanted the power of the Motherboxes neutered and the heads of the members of the Justice League on his wall. Even from prison, Orm heard of the war beginning, and knew things were changing.

The next day, Arthur appeared, grim, at the other end of the cell, and said, “So I had an idea.”

Orm had given him a look, seated in his cell, which — for courtesy’s sake — was separated from others and large enough for exercise. “What idea?” he asked in as measured a tone as he could.

“Darkseid. You know. Big… grey guy. Fucked up face. Red eyes.” He gestured to his own face, as if that helped. “He kind of brought an entire fleet to attack Earth. We’re doing okay. The Green Lantern guys really helped.”

Darkseid was not a surprise. The Green Lanterns he had heard of too. “What was your idea?” Orm asked pointedly.

Arthur cleared his throat. “Mom thinks it’s a bad idea.” He paused, shrugged. “But four hundred and seventy soldiers were wiped out in the first day of fighting, boom, just like that, and they’re not even sending in their big guns yet. I — kind of am asking for help.”

“Fighting?” Orm was, after all, a soldier. He’d been fighting since he was a boy. He was wearied by the thought of returning to battle, but if it would get him out of here and into the world again —

“Not really. I think, if we played our cards right, you could slip right in with these guys.” At that, he pulled out a data device that, if Orm recalled correctly, Arthur had called a “soggy iPad,” and tapped around on it.

An image of several Atlanteans came up. Orm recognized them instantly. Of all the extremist groups in Atlantis, the Tethys Brotherhood was the least savory one, despising their own royal house and Atlantean heritage. They didn’t have a leader, nor were they well-organized, so they weren’t an enormous threat to the city. But they did believe that the Apokoliptian overlords of eons past had some divine right to galactic conquest, and upon Steppenwolf’s attack and defeat, had staged bloody and violent demonstrations that Orm had cracked down on. He had also executed at least four of them.

He looked at Arthur. “They all hate me.”

“Yeah. So I’ve been told. I’ve also been told that they’re in contact with one of Darkseid’s guys. They’re going to hand over a ton of information about our troops and the city, and then they’re going to defect, and it’s going to suck unless we do something about them.”

Orm frowned. “If you know about them, why don’t you stop them now?”

“One, there’s a lot more of them than we knew, and two, here’s the opportunity part. I wouldn’t ask this if it was anything but freaking Darkseid, but look—”

It clicked. “You want me to infiltrate them,” Orm interrupted before Arthur could finish.

Arthur shrugged again, folded his arms. “Yeah. What do you think?”

“I think they’d sooner kill me than believe I’d want to destroy—” He stopped himself from saying _my city_ because he didn’t want to sound possessive, but Arthur seemed to get the point.

“Here’s the thing, though,” Arthur said, now taking his chance to interrupt. “We spin it like you hate me, which, not that hard. Enough rage against me personally to go up against Atlantis. Only you and Mom and maybe Mera and Vulko know the truth. If it’s just the five of us, it’s watertight. To them, it makes sense that you wanna burn it all down. So to speak.”

A heavy pause filled the air. Arthur looked optimistic, but also frazzled. Well, several hundred dead soldiers will do that to a king. Orm knew the feeling. He also knew that the likelihood of success for such a mission was catastrophically low, and that Arthur could not possibly know what he was asking of him.

Unless he did. In which case he was made of colder stuff than Orm had guessed.

He mulled the possibilities. Of course Arthur, who was smarter than he ever let on, could actually be a gifted war strategist at heart; his rule could prove the best thing for Atlantis in the long run. And the power of the Trident on his side too. A betrayal from a deposed king, when the new king was the long-lost half-brother he’d hated for years, would not be an impossibility. It wouldn’t even be far from the truth. And Darkseid was no joke, and Tethys could potentially bring disaster to the city.

So Orm said, “I’ll need to break out realistically. I know where to find the brotherhood. No one else can know, not the guards, not the Justice League. And don’t attempt to contact me. I’ll initiate — and it’ll be a long time before it’s safe to do so. They may suspect a mole at the onset. I’ll have to be convincing and bide my time.”

Arthur nodded slowly. He seemed to search Orm’s face. “Mom wants to see you. Before—”

He knew he was being ruthless, but he shook his head. “She visited me too recently. Even this visit is suspect. If the Tethys people are already giving information to Darkseid, I need to move fast.”

“So you’ll—” Arthur almost looked at a loss for words, still searching for something in Orm. “Don’t do anything stupid. And we can extract you — the League. Send a message if you’re in danger.”

It was like he expected more resistance, an argument, or something. Orm realized that this request required a measure of trust on Arthur’s part that he hadn’t shown before. He knew Mera still hated his guts — that was fair. He had treated her like a political tool. Atlanna was careful to be kind and forgiving, but her disappointment showed. For Arthur to ask this against their mother’s wishes — he must’ve been desperate. He must’ve been afraid.

Orm hesitated. He was fully aware that saying yes might lead to his death, but if war was coming to Atlantis, _his_ city, _his_ people, he’d much sooner die for them than rot in jail for the duration of the fight. So. Espionage. “Don’t do anything stupid?” He repeated Arthur’s words. “I’ll say the same to you. Atlantis… needs a fixed point. If _you_ fail, everyone does.” He had intended it to be harsh, but it came out not mean enough. Poseidon, _he_ was getting soft. Already he missed the city, the water, the sound of whale song in the distance. Creatures of Apokolips had no idea what they were destroying. But he’d die to protect it. A shred of his pride remained intact, if he could defend his city.

Arthur, to his credit, just nodded. “Mom… was just worried. Told me to tell you to be safe, and careful, if you went.” His eyes flickered to Orm’s, then away. “Look, the point of this is like — an emergency switch, okay? I don’t want you to sabotage anything or put yourself in danger. Just be our man on the inside and if it’s important and you can get it to us without them guessing — then we’d wanna know.”

Orm gave one short nod. “I understand.” And then, because the fear of never seeing Atlantis again had gripped him suddenly and powerfully, he added, “Keep the city safe. I’m — this isn’t worth anything if Atlantis falls.”

Arthur looked pained at that, and just answered, “I will. I think — uh.” He paused. “Just be safe. Mom would kill me if, you know.”

He didn’t want to think about it, so he just sighed. “She’s suffered worse losses.”

“I really don’t think she has,” Arthur returned. “I’m just saying. As your big brother. And also as your king. I am telling you to not do anything stupid, and to come back and help me protect the city afterwards. Okay?” He was trying to be gruff and serious. He actually looked a little hurt.

A pause, and then Orm relented. “All right.”

Arthur seemed satisfied and nodded. “So for the breakout…”

“The guards are competent but nothing beyond that,” he said dismissively. “But don’t tip them off. I won’t injure them permanently, but anything staged will be easy to identify.”

“I won’t. So — today?”

“I’m so enraged by your condescending words to me during your visit, I’ve decided to break out at once and betray Atlantis to the forces of Apokolips,” Orm said drily. “The sooner you storm off, the sooner this will be set into motion.”

“Gotcha.” Arthur moved back slightly, as if ready to leave, but paused at the threshold of the exit. “Will you — need anything else?”

“Some peace and quiet for my last hours here,” he said, and shot Arthur a gaze. “And, please, if Mera and Vulko aren’t in it already, don’t tell them, for Poseidon’s sake. Their attempts to lie to me about you were the most pathetic acts I’ve ever witnessed.” It’s a half-lie; he had been convinced for a while. His mistake.

Arthur half-shrugged. “Vulko doesn’t know. But Mera was there when I was brainstorming. Sorry.”

He still disliked Vulko greatly, so at least there was that. “Good. Anyone else?”

Arthur grimaced. “Yeah. I was at the League HQ. So — one of my other buddies knows.”

“Which one? The one dressed as a bat?” He hoped not.

“No, Diana, Wonder Woman. She’s cool.”

He knew of her — Themysciran. Protector of humanity. “Swear her to secrecy.”

“Dude, I did.” Arthur looked peeved. “We care about you not getting hurt. Or in too deep. So just be smart, okay?”

“Frankly, I’m more concerned with your grasp on tactical strategy than mine.” Ah. There was the harshness. It came easily enough, when provoked.

Arthur just took it. “You… want me to pass anything on to Mom?”

He contemplated his options. _I’m sorry, again. Don’t doubt me._ Or _If this is to be the end, remember me well._ Or _If I die I’ll do it for Atlantis. Don’t let me be a disappointment to you still._

Orm cleared his throat. None of those would be appropriate. “If I don’t make it back, just — thank her. For everything she’s done. Tell her — I did my best to return.” He forced the words out of himself. He didn’t want there to be no message, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to say _sorry_.

Arthur just nodded, turned to go. “Won’t happen. You’re coming back. Or I’ll kill you myself.”

Orm didn’t answer, though he had the chance to, watching Arthur disappear down the hall and around the corner. Instead, he fought within himself, wavering between a slight sense of victory and grief. To leave this cell, he had to leave Atlantis. And his mother, newly returned from the grave. And Arthur, newly a warrior king who had to contend with a bigger fight than any king of Atlantis had faced in a very long time. And beyond the city’s limits lay — who knew? An imminent death, or an Apokoliptian victory that he might accidentally aid by temporarily siding with them?

It roiled in him, and making plans to escape gave him no comfort. Not even when he’d requested a handcuffed break in the open yard and the guard assented readily, not even when he’d flipped the guard and slapped the cuffs on him instead, not even when, alarms blaring, he used the guard’s standard-issue weapon to knock out two more guards who came fast as they could — not even then did his thoughts drift far from his mother and brother. Perhaps they’d miss him. Perhaps their son being branded a traitor would grieve them.

Out of the Aquarium’s narrow caves and luminescent hallways, and into the murky seafloor of northern Atlantis, Orm moved with new purpose. He headed straight for the wreck of the _Cecilia_ , where the Brotherhood congregated for quasi-religious meetings and devotion to the powers and gods of Apokolips. He’d find a new life in their ranks, or maybe a quick death. All depended on his wit and ability to convince them he hated Arthur, hated him enough to burn all of Atlantis down with him.

And that wasn’t true, really, not anymore. But accessing those feelings from months ago would be easy enough. He had to acknowledge that it was no longer true to begin crafting his story, though he gritted his teeth against it. Hating Arthur had been everything for so long. Had been a purpose to keep him alive.

On his way through the dark sea, he saw a glimmer of hope in the possibility of sabotaging the invasion, his skills being put to use for subterfuge. For Atlantis, he would lie and work for the enemy, for now. For Atlantis.

And if he returned home absolved of his past, so much the better.

#

Now, eight months later, he felt further and further from any kind of absolution.

Earth hung in space outside the window, and his armor weighed heavily on him. In eight months, he had sent four coded messages to Arthur, as spaced apart as possible for safety, with information on impending ambushes and one assassination attempt. Arthur was safe, for now; Atlantis had not fallen. The Justice League had kept Apokolips at bay so far. Even better, to his knowledge, DeSaad and Darkseid’s other minions didn’t suspect Orm. Rather, everyone on the warships were frustrated at the Justice League, especially Wonder Woman and the Green Lanterns and Superman. The League’s power was great — they took down squad after squad of Apokoliptian invaders. And Darkseid, wounded by Wonder Woman and her Lasso of Truth one month before, had begun rethinking their direct invasion strategy. They were faltering; that was good news.

Orm, however, had never felt weaker. Fighting Atlantis and bowing to DeSaad was tortuous. But what else could he do? If he left now, how much harder would it be to find another way to gather intelligence eight months into the war?

After another moment, he set his helmet on — red, ugly, like most things about Apokolips — and turned to take his shuttle back to the planet, where the traitorous Atlanteans awaited his new orders. They were four hundred in number and were the most despicable people Orm had ever met. Together they destroyed Atlantean sites and encouraged other criminals, cowards, and weaklings to join their cause.

They had even come to hail Orm as Ocean Master again, their royal leader specially appointed by Darkseid to bring Atlantis to its knees, and though he’d once sought the title at the cost of many lives, he hated it now. He didn’t know how much longer he could take this game, the lies, the violence against his own people. Not for the first time, he contemplated giving in and requesting extraction in his next message, but he would never allow himself to be so weak. The information he gathered was essential to Earth’s defense — to Arthur and Atlanna’s safety.

 _If I return at all_ , he thought, rallying himself to strength, _it will be against my will — as a corpse. I will stay and keep up the fight. For Atlantis. For Atlantis. For Atlantis_.

Atlantis. He closed his eyes and dreamed of home. Of the end of war.

Outside, the warships of Apokolips blocked out the stars, an impenetrable curtain around the planet. Death and doom lingered in the air. The war continued.


	2. Diana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! Welcome to Chapter 2.
> 
> (I wanted to reiterate, like I mentioned in the tags, that I've never seen the Justice League movie. I figured that the Snyder Cut movement would work [I have great faith] and I just wasn't interested in the Whedon version. I've seen clips and I know the plot, so this story considers JL partially canon, lol.)

The Flash had shouted “Yes, Wonder Woman!” with such exuberance when it had happened, Diana couldn’t help but allow the tug of a smile at her mouth to blossom into a full-blown grin. Yes, she had wounded Darkseid, snapped the Lasso of Hestia around his shoulder and yanked so hard something cracked. But as soon as the damage was done, Darkseid had freed himself of the rope and fled with his troops, with an ominous boom of “The Earth will be mine, and you will pay.”

Well, they had to take what victories they could, so afterwards the four of them — Wonder Woman, Superman, the Flash, and the more experienced Green Lantern, John Stewart — had disguised themselves as their public alter egos and gone out for drinks. (She always wore her bracelets, just in case, but for now she kept her armor at headquarters.) But she was troubled even as they celebrated.

“You okay?” Barry had asked her, sensing her mood.

She had smiled, genuinely, at the question. At the care with which Barry treated everyone around him, even when he was tired too. “I’m well. I’m frustrated with our lack of progress. But I think we all feel the same, and it’ll be our reality for now.”

Barry nodded. “So you think we’ll… just be at an impasse for the foreseeable future?”

She hesitated and made eye contact with Clark, whose glasses really made him look like an entirely different person. Clark had grimaced.

She chose her words carefully. “In war, there’s no way of telling what the coming days hold. We can only do our best to prepare for whatever opportunities arise.”

Barry nodded, took a swig of his beer. He swallowed and set the bottle down. “Very well-put. I can see why we have you speak for us.”

He was, of course, referring to the League’s talks with governmental and military organizations around the world — who were as disorganized and chaotic as ever, but committed to stopping the alien invasion and defending their nations. Diana spoke with most of them because, first of all, she had real diplomatic experience, and second of all, she wasn’t trying to hide her real identity anymore.

There was also the slight fact that she’d had a hundred years to practice her German, French, Italian, Spanish, Russian, Mandarin, Cantonese, Korean, Arabic, and Portuguese. Her accents weren’t perfect, but her grammar, vocabulary and syntax were quite good.

The conversation had gone on, and she had gotten distracted by news reports on a nearby TV screen that talked about the number of ships visible in the sky, amateur astronomers’ attempts to figure out the warships’ make and weaponry, and so on.

She thought back to the battle earlier that day. It was doubtful that the opening to attack Darkseid’s ship had been a ploy by the Apokoliptians to lure them in: the League’s strike team, the four of them, had surprised the occupants of the bridge and pummeled Darkseid’s bodyguard forces for ten minutes before getting pushed back with significant force. They — or Diana at least — had taken note of the number of bodyguards Darkseid traveled with, their armaments, their dynamic. If there was opening for a rebellion among Darkseid’s soldiers, though, she hadn’t seen it. All the Apokoliptian warriors, with one notable exception, seemed intensely loyal to their master.

Unfortunately, Darkseid made it clear in the resulting clash that he knew it was his lieutenant Big Barda who’d tipped the League off to his flagship location, so Big Barda had to join the four of them and flee to Earth with Green Lantern’s help immediately afterwards. They had lost the use of a valuable spy in Barda, and Darkseid had to be on the lookout now for other traitors, endangering other informants even further. But a trap — it didn’t feel like that. Here they were, safe and sound.

And thankfully, Barda was safe with only minor injuries, de-briefing with Batman and Black Canary at the League headquarters. Soon she’d be shuttled away to a safehouse for some much needed rest and physical therapy for her leg injury. She’d also agreed to rejoin the fight as a full League member when she was better. (Many months of being the only woman on the League had left Diana extremely grateful for the presence of Zatanna, Mera, Atlanna, Dinah, and others, and she was looking forward to the addition of another woman to the group — and a fighter who had been in real wars before, too. Her expertise would be invaluable.)

So with the bad news and good news weighing in somewhat equally for now, she wasn’t entirely sure why a persistent bad feeling lingered. They’d reached Darkseid and gotten away with it — proving that he was no divine being through injuring him — yet she remained troubled.

Diana knew of two more people undercover among Darkseid’s forces, and her heart ached for the violence and darkness they were facing. Martian Manhunter was using his shapeshifting abilities to spy on officer’s meetings and ascertain any troop movements and planned parademon attacks. And Orm Marius, Arthur’s little brother, was somewhere out there, with the rogue Atlanteans who wanted to gut Atlantis and depose Arthur. Marius had gone dark a month ago, but very likely Barda’s betrayal was complicating things for him, and besides it was a moment of relative calm on Earth. The League would have to be patient.

After she and Clark (who both hardly felt the effects of alcohol) made sure a slightly tipsy Barry and John reached their League sleeping quarters safely, she bade Clark farewell. He said a cheerful “See you tomorrow, Diana” and flew back to Metropolis — back to his wife, Lois — but Diana just sighed and went to her quarters to change clothes. Their temporary headquarters in Gotham contained small residential rooms for each of the regular members; more and more these days, they were just living there. Other than Clark, of course, who could fly, and who actually had a wife and mother to visit.

Diana rarely slept, able to function well without it — besides, there was always more work to do — so her bed remained unused. She used the space for storage, mostly civilian clothes and books, and tended to sit at the desk and sip tea when she needed a moment alone.

She stripped out of her button-down shirt, trousers, and fashionable flats, tossed the clothes in the hamper, and donned her armor, which for now was just laid out on the bed for easy access. First came the cloth layer that kept the metal from chafing and pinching, then her blue leather skirt, Amazonian steel bodice, and boots. She took out her ponytail holder, shook out her curls, and fixed her tiara in her hair. This was like putting on her skin again: everything else felt like a disguise.

She looked at herself in the round mirror on the wall and adjusted her tiara to sit better. She pursed her lips. She knew who she was; she knew what she stood for. But she remembered a time when she’d just begun to know those things. Wearing this armor for the first time in 1918, she had felt nigh invincible. Everything had been new and exciting; the whole outside world of men had been a challenge awaiting her indomitable spirit. She had risen to the occasion time and again. She had learned who and what to fight for.

She turned and picked up the Lasso, hanging on a bedpost. It glowed with warm yellow light in response to her touch. Her mastery of her powers had only grown since leaving Themyscira, since defeating Ares and later Steppenwolf, since learning to fight alongside allies and friends. But the ache for home never left. The ache for purpose, meaning, a life worth giving her all to. She was on the right track with the League, she was sure of it, but there was so much more to do, so much injustice to fight. She hoped she’d have the perseverance to keep doing this — ten, fifty, a hundred years from now, or further into the future.

Even when her mortal friends had passed on. Even if the League faded into memory.

Diana had grown up since the Great War; she knew now that the fight would never be over — that those who came after her would experience more of the same. She was resolved to keep going, but she did reflect sometimes that no other League member, no Earth hero that she knew of, had been doing this as long. The future seemed to stretch on and on. Even if they beat back this invasion, who would come after Darkseid?

She brushed her hair behind her shoulder, putting on the Lasso, sheating her sword, picking up her shield. She loved her friends and allies in the League. She helped train them in them all kinds of things — war strategy, sword fighting, martial arts. (She even gave Barry dating advice once in a while, not that she had particular experience in the area. He just needed a little boost.) But she was well-aware that she needed to plan for the future in more ways than one. The League needed to strengthen itself, recruit, and invest in the future of their members, otherwise burnout would soon follow.

And she feared that some of them would die young, or otherwise needlessly, by trying too hard to save everyone. They needed to spread the burden out better, share it better. She decided she needed to talk to Bruce about it. But he was so prone to burning out himself.

That evening, she joined Bruce on patrol, tracking the skies for movement. The invasion, they had learned quickly, came in fits and starts. Parademons and their Apokoliptian overseers held territory in North America, South America, Asia, and out on the ocean, but rarely ventured out of their strongholds. Their warships hovered around Earth, out of range of most human weapons but susceptible to coordinated attacks.

Mostly, Darkseid seemed to be biding his time, growing his territory slowly, perhaps depending on the fact that his enemies were mortal and would grow weary of endless small skirmishes.

Weary was correct. Diana and Bruce hardly said a word to each other as they watched, tense and gripping their weapons.

After a while, Diana broke the silence. “How’s Barda?”

“Adjusting fine.” His voice was low and guttural as usual. Diana humored his theatrics. “She’s a fighter.”

“We’ll have to work hard to integrate her,” she replied. This was the type of gentle push that Diana gave often — trying to prioritize the League’s interpersonal relationships and strengthen their ties. She knew how important the League was to Bruce, simply as companions and friends, even though he’d never say it.

“Canary likes her,” Bruce said. “They’re both tough.”

They were both survivors, to the core. And Diana was filled with pride when she thought of how far both of them had come. “You’re right,” she said, regarding Batman’s silhouette in the darkness. “But even the toughest need help in new situations.”

He grunted, in the affirmative, she thought.

They spent the rest of the night watching and waiting for an attack that didn’t come. In the morning Bruce retreated for one of his three-hour naps, and Diana took up watch from in front of the headquarter’s computer screens, monitoring all activity on the Eastern seaboard. She watched and waited. Very soon it would be time to head out for the day and stake out the Parademons outside of Gotham City — they disliked the daylight and would be less likely to mind their snooping. She stretched out, cracked her knuckles. Once more unto the breach, she thought, and stood.

#

A month after injuring Darkseid, and growing only more tired of the endless sleepless nights, attacks, and defenses, Diana was up at around three in the morning studying Apokoliptian warship schematics. She was in front of the monitors as usual, while Batman was patrolling for parademons in Gotham, John and Hal were guarding cities close to other parademon hotspots, and the Flash had called it a night.

Somewhere behind her, Arthur cleared his throat. “Anything interesting?” he asked.

Diana turned to greet him. He looked tired, shadows under his eyes, hair a mess. He was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, with the Trident of Atlan in his hand. He was no longer the only Atlantean League member since Mera and Atlanna had joined, and Atlantis was fully onboard with the League’s defense plans too despite having quite recently declared war on the surface. Still, so much of the burden of leading the Atlanteans and speaking for the League fell on him, and she could tell just by looking at him how much he wanted this to be over.

“Just the usual,” she said, then decided to do something about it, and stood. “I’ll make tea. Sit.”

He obeyed, dropping into one of the seats at the monitors, letting his trident fall on the ground with a slight clang. Diana noticed a white bandage on his arm. “I kinda got stabbed,” Arthur said as explanation. “It’s minor, but I’m off the battlefield. Officially taking a break. Mera’s coordinating the city defenses tonight, Vulko told me to chill out. So here I am. Nothing new, huh?”

“For better or worse,” Diana said. She walked to the little kitchenette at the back, which had only two burners, a sink, microwave, mid-sized fridge, toaster, and kettle. She filled it up and switched it on. At least she made sure to keep the kitchen well-stocked with tea, sugar, and creamer. Bruce and Barry drank gallons of coffee between the two of them, but she did not partake in that vice other than the occasional well-made espresso in France and Italy. Arthur drank tea if other people made it. She took advantage of the fact to get him to sit and calm down a little. Little victories.

She prepped two mugs, colorful IKEA ones, with a spoonful of sugar and an Earl Grey teabag, and when the water boiled she poured it and let it sit, turning back to Arthur. “And Atlantis’s defenses? Holding?”

“Those fucking demons can’t get underwater easily, at least. So they send our own ex-citizens after us with Apokoliptian tech.” Arthur looked perturbed. “Orm’s among them, I guess. I’ve fought a few times, but no sign of him.”

She sensed his deep concern, and her heart went out to him. She had only been a small part of the conversation that led to the idea in the first place. Eight months ago, with the attack having come so suddenly, Diana and Mera and Arthur had sat in this very room and made the decision to ask Orm Marius for help.

Likely fearing assassination attempts against Arthur, as public as he was, Mera had suggested a spy system. Infiltrating Darkseid’s people would have to be done before either side got too comfortable with the status quo to let newcomers in. Even someone like Martian Manhunter could only do so much — he’d have to be on his guard for detection, only able to slip in and out. He’d probably never be able to ingratiate himself at the higest levels, since he wouldn’t have a real identity among Darkseid’s followers.

But someone who actually betrayed Earth, left the planet, had real compelling motivation to turn against the League and their allies? Well, that would be another story. Someone who could give up just enough useful information for Darkseid to bring them into the fold — then that person could slowly but surely build up trust and be there for when the League really needed it.

Mera and Arthur had exchanged glances at that point, and Diana didn’t know what was going on between them until Mera said, “I don’t like it, but—”

“The motivation is there,” Arthur pointed out.

“Can you trust him?” Mera returned.

“ _Yes_ ,” Arthur said, with so much sincerity Mera looked taken aback. Arthur grimaced, withdrew. “I mean, I’ve been talking to him, Mom’s been talking to him. Didn’t you see the look on his face when he realized Mom was alive? It changed him. I’m sure of it.”

Diana shifted, unsure if she should be listening in about their family situation, but Mera had looked to her.

“It’s Arthur’s brother, Orm,” Mera said. “He — we… used to be engaged. Arthur took the throne from him.”

“I only know the official version of the story,” Diana said carefully, looking to Arthur and then Mera. The League had received Arthur’s full report, once it had happened. “Orm was imprisoned, wasn’t he?”

Arthur shrugged helplessly. “He wanted it that way. We offered a house arrest kind of situation. He said prison suited him better. And — that I needed to lock him up to establish my rule, shit like that. Like Atlantis wouldn’t accept me if I didn’t put him away.”

“It’s true,” Mera interrupted. “It’s a patriarchal, warlike value system. Defeating him in battle was just the start. There were calls, and not even from extremists, to execute Orm. It’s just what’s always been done.”

Diana frowned. “Then you think Orm would infiltrate Darkseid’s forces?”

Arthur settled back and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“He’s good at what he did,” Mera admitted. “By that I mean being an asshole and manipulating people. I don’t trust him as far as I could throw him.”

“I dunno, you could throw him pretty far if you tried,” Arthur quipped. Mera elbowed him.

“Help me understand,” Diana said. “It’s been — what, four months since you got the trident and took over the throne?”

“Yes,” Mera confirmed.

Diana nodded. “So he’s been in prison that long, and you and your mother have been his only visitors?”

“Yeah,” Arthur said. “Mom’s there, like, three, four times a week. I go when I can. Weekends mostly. His birthday was last Saturday.”

Mera rolled her eyes a little. “Have you had any deep and honest conversations? Or is it like, silence and grunting?”

Arthur looked offended. “We talked about our dads. That was pretty deep.”

Mera folded her arms, unconvinced. “Orvax was an abusive jerk. Orm never put a hand on me because I would’ve suffocated him, but he took after his father in other ways.”

Arthur looked uncomfortable at that. “Hurt people hurt people. I mean, that’s what they say. Trauma gets passed on.”

“It most certainly does,” Diana interjected. “But sometimes therapy and time are what someone needs, not a dangerous assignment to infiltrate the forces of Earth’s most deadly enemy.”

“I’m with Diana on that,” Mera said.

Arthur was silent for a while before sitting forward and looking at both of them. When he spoke, his tone was newly sober and gruff with emotion. “I hear you both. He has some shit to work through. But after all this — I think I know him pretty well. We’re a lot alike. And from what I can tell, he can convince himself prison’s fine if he wants, but he’s like — desperate for purpose. I’d go crazy if I wasn’t on some kind of mission or task. Him too. And he’s smart. I don’t want him to get hurt. I don’t want to put him in a worse situation. But I think it could be good for him. To use his skills, see that he’s valuable even when he’s not king. He needs to get a fucking life. Maybe this is the move.”

Diana and Mera were still. Then Mera said, “You really care about him.”

“He’s my brother,” Arthur said.

 _Simple as that_ , Diana thought, and nodded. “Then ask him what he thinks,” she said. “Give him a chance to think it over. Make it clear that it’s first and foremost his choice. And if necessary, the League can extract him.” This was a doubtful promise — she had no idea how bad it would get or how deep in any informant would find themselves — but they’d do their best, that was for certain.

“And don’t tell anyone else,” Mera said before Arthur could reply. “If anyone ever has to fight him, that’s another issue, but we can’t risk anyone overhearing it or accidentally spilling the beans. All right?”

Arthur nodded. “Will do. This stays between us.”

“Of course,” Diana said. She looked closely at Arthur: founding member of the League, now a king. Would he regret this in the future? Would it help or hurt his fragile new relationship with his brother in the long run? She couldn’t know. She could only trust her friends and do her best to help them.

So that had been eight months ago. Now Diana removed the teabags from the mugs, poured creamer, and stirred it in. She set the spoons aside to be washed later and brought Arthur his tea.

“Thanks,” he said distractedly, and breathed in the steam. “Good stuff. My mom’s a tea drinker.”

Diana knew. Atlanna Curry drank a lot of it, both black and herbal, when she was here. Mostly Atlanna served as another point of contact between Atlantis and the humans, since she had significant experience in both worlds, but other times she strategized, patrolled, and fought with the rest of the League. She too had significant past tactical and melee experience, and she was beyond valuable to the team as a wise and mature presence who knew when to send someone to bed and when to keep pushing.

“You’re worried about your brother,” Diana said, sitting across from Arthur and breathing in the scent of tea.

“Yeah,” Arthur said, and took a sip. “But it’s… not quite what I thought. Or — it’s what I didn’t wanna believe.”

Diana let him work himself up to it, waiting patiently.

“I’m not so sure he’s stable,” Arthur said finally. “As a person. I know I’m a hell of a person to talk about stability, but I was so sure he was on his way to becoming a better person, and… I may have overestimated him.”

She drank some tea, sensitive to Arthur’s anxiety and doing her best to be a calming presence. “Has something concerning happened?”

“Just…” Arthur looked at the ground, then at her. “We learned from some captured Atlanteans that defected — Orm’s not just among them, like another soldier. They’re actually calling him Ocean Master again. He’s their glorious leader or whatever. He gives speeches, apparently. It looks like Darkseid’s promised him all of Atlantis again. As king.”

That struck her as an effective way for Darkseid to turn Atlantis against itself. “I see,” she said. “You think he’d take that offer?”

“I think he might be conflicted,” Arthur said. “Like, we know not to trust Darkseid. He’d just as soon murder his allies if he wanted to. But if Orm — after eight months — is tired, and actually mad at me, without Mom’s influence? If he thinks he can get everything back that he lost? Is it crazy for me to doubt him?”

“It’s not crazy,” Diana affirmed. “You only had a few months with Orm before he left. It’s hard to know someone in such a short span. And everything’s been so tumultuous.”

“Yeah,” Arthur agreed. He took a long sip. “I didn’t want to bother Mom. And Mera would say she told me so. But you’re — the only other person.”

“I understand. I’m happy to listen,” she said.

For a while they sat, drinking tea in the silence of the night, before Arthur sat up abruptly.

“What—” Diana began, but Arthur just looked at her, eyes wide, and said, “Kidnap him.”

There was a pause. Diana set her tea down. “Kidnap your brother?”

“He knows who you are. He knows you know about the whole thing. I told him,” Arthur said. He put his tea down with a bang; some of it sloshed over the side. “Look, it’s a good idea! Just kidnap him and use your rope to figure it out. Then, I dunno, fake fight, he escapes. No harm done. Cover intact.”

Diana looked at him doubtfully. She had ethical concerns with using the Lasso against an ally, but that was an argument for another time. “Do you think Darkseid would fall for something like that?”

“Darkseid doesn’t _need_ to fall for it,” Arthur persisted. “Just Orm’s followers — the Atlanteans. I think it’s reasonable to not report getting your ass kicked by Wonder Woman. You can tell him I said that.”

“How would I find him?” she asked. She was warming to it, more for Arthur’s sake than anything else, but was still uncomfortable with barging in without a plan.

“They’re always attacking Atlantean towns and outposts,” Arthur said. “We use that Wayne tech to get you underwater. You blast off to fight whenever they attack. Look for the guy who could only be Atlanna’s son and you’ve got him.”

“I’ll need a better description than that,” Diana said drily, but in a moment she relented and began to plan it all out in her head. “I’ll reassign myself to Atlantis. We might need Atlanna back here to cover for me. And Bruce will have to make sure that the rebreathers are battle-ready.” She regarded Arthur, who nodded enthusiastically, and then added gently, “Would you be prepared to fight him again if it does turn out like you feared?”

Arthur grimaced but masked it pretty quick with a forced chuckle. “Kicked his ass before. I’ll do it again if I have to.”

Diana leaned forward to look him in the eye before saying, “Whatever happens, Arthur, I won’t hurt him. I’ll give him time to think things through. If you believe in him, I do too.”

“Thank you,” Arthur said. It was as genuine a thing she’d ever heard him say. He smoothed his hands over his legs and nodded once as if to collect himself. “My family’s pretty fucked up.”

“So much opportunity for growth then,” she said, with a slight grin. He met her gaze and grinned back.

“Always a silver lining,” he said.

She shrugged. “I like to think my optimism is warranted.”

“Sure hope so.” He picked up his mug, chugged the rest, and apologetically wiped up the small spill he’d made earlier with his sleeve. He grabbed Diana’s empty mug and took them to the sink.

“Thanks,” she said after his back. He muttered a gruff _you’re welcome_ and turned the tap on to wash up.

Diana turned back to the monitors and pulled up the US government’s file on Orm Marius, searching until she found an image. It was grainy, but she saw enough. Hair white like his mother’s, eyes sharp like his brother’s.

She got comfortable in her chair and started reading. She had research to do.


End file.
